Thursday, April 22nd 2004
Broadcasting LIVE! from Indianapolis, Indiana at 10/9 p.m. CT
Thursday, April 22nd 2004
Broadcasting LIVE!
from Indianapolis,
Indiana at 10/9 p.m. CT
|
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
"He's
late." It
was a statement so
unbelievable, that she
didn't believe it as
it left her lips. "I
can't believe
this." See. Hillary
Duncan paced the arena
hallway back and forth
with her mobile phone
in hand, but it rang
out. She hung up in
frustration, and then
pressed
redial...hoping that
he had left it
unattended while she
had called, or even
seen it light up if he
had it on silent, but
it was still the same
end product. No
answer. Click. She
shook her head in
frustration as she
made her way back to
her office for this
evening, as she
flipped open her
PocketPC and tried her
best to continue the
plans for the evening. William
Laguna was in
Italy. Adam
Kent was late, and
in the worst case
scenario, awol. Hillary
was on her own, and
she didn't like that
one single bit.
64
There it sat.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
Joshua, also known as Lancett, walked in through the double-door entrance to the back of the arena from the parking lot. His gym bag draped from his left shoulder and his right arm had Abbey hanging off him. Abbey’s red fingernails where tracing his tattoo on his inner wrist, as she talked to him about random things. Grudge
Match I don't need you forgiveness, WINNER : Marshall
Against The
Odds
So,
it was a rather warm
night in Indianapolis.
And
with this being the
night of the latest
edition of Courage,
things would only heat
up as the night
progresses. Backstage,
standing in front of a
chainlink fence that
serves as a
supposedly-cool
background, reporter
Vespar MacPeterson had
a microphone in his
hand. You'd expect
someone to be by his
side, right?
You're
sadly mistaken.
"Good
evening, ladies and
gents. I'm Vespar
MacPeterson,
soon-to-be critically
acclaimed anime
writer. I have an
important update for
all ACW fans, and it
concerns the
Television and
Scorpion Fighting
Champion, Quinton
May!" Vespar
began, solemnly,
immediately garnering
the attention of all
watching this on the
video wall in the
arena.
Vespar
continued after a
slight pause to gather
his thoughts, "It
appears as if Quinton
May will NOT be in
attendence tonight.
This is due to what
can only be described
as a malicious and
pre-meditated attack
on the Canadian
Gladiator.
Last
week, a couple of
hours after Courage
went off the air in
Cleveland, Quinton May
was found to be a
bloodied mess near a
shopping mall in the
vicinity of his hotel
room.
That's
just the tip of the
iceberg, though.
It
seems as if Quinton
May was crucified.
To a tree, no less!
Reports at this point
are still quite
sketchy, but Quinton
has not been cleared
to show up and compete
tonight. I myself have
no idea how long he
will take to recover
from that heinous
attack, but one thing
is for sure.
Every
bit of evidence
recovered from the
scene indicates that
it was a member of the
ACW roster who
subjected Quinton May
to this absolutely
shambolic and evil
act!"
Wow,
he seemed passionate.
Taking
yet another break to
calm himself down,
Vespar clenched his
free hand, like as if
he felt like hitting
someone. In the
stands, huge jeers
could be heard
following the
dissemination of this
breaking news
regarding Quinton May.
Massive outpour of
concern came in a
close second.
Then,
suddenly, cheers.
Vespar
was confused. He
opened his eyes and
looked up.
"Oh...
my... Lord."
No,
it wasn't Jesus Christ
that was standing in
front of Vespar.
Although it could have
been, since the people
were cheering and the
person that was now
growling at Vespar WAS
crucified.
But,
no.
It
was... QUINTON MAY!
Bundled
up in bandages and
woolly clothing,
Quincy looked like
shite. That could be
expected of someone
who was bashed up
mercilessly and left
to die like a dog on
the street, but there
was that renewed
charge in Quinton's
eyes. Made Vespar more
frightened that he
already was. What a
baby. Stupid Vespar.
"If
I could survive a bomb
blast, I can survive a
childish crucifixtion."
Quincy Mama murmured
to Vespar ever so
softly, before the
Rising Star hobbled
away from the scene.
Probably in search of
William Laguna, Vespar
thought as he
collected himself and
stumbled away from the
scene. Before the
idiot realised Laguna
wasn't in attendance.
Quinton
was, though, against
the odds.
But,
why?
Say What?
No television deal.
Another Brick in the Wall
But, rest assured, there was a point to that door. And that point was realized when none other then… some random guy, wearing an old Soundgarden shirt, tripping over the step beneath the door and dropping the wires he was carrying. Maybe there wasn’t a point to… “Get the fuck out of my way!” Well… never mind. Volker Baldwin shoved the guy down as he was bent over, trying to pick up his cargo. He fell forward on his hands and rolled over to see the source of his push. Volker never turned around. He just kept walking forward, on some sort of mission. “Asshole.” the man whispered under his breath as he got to his feet. Volker’s face seemed to be in a constant state of anger; painted in a pale red, breathing heavy and relentless, bulged eyes never bothering to blink. He had come to ACW expecting to excel over all the other so-called athletes. Instead he found himself dealing with an invisible rival, lying undercover in the depths of a mystery with no clues. And if that wasn’t enough… “Volker Baldwin?” Volker stopped in his tracks, glared his eyes upwards coldly, and turned around quickly to get this over with. “Who the fuck are…” “I’m Officer Alderman.” said a man in a black suit with a red tie, pulling a badge out of his pocket. “This is Officer Cleffberg. We’re here to talk to you about the incident that took place on last weeks show.” “What? What the hell are you talking about?” “Well we’ve received word that a man by the name of Louie Bandry has pressed charges against you.” “And who the fuck, may I ask, is…” “He’s the man whose head you cracked open with the chair you just decided to toss into an audience filled with innocent bystanders.” yelled Cleffberg, fed up with the hostility. “That’s who ‘the fuck he is’.” “We’ve been ordered to come down here and get you. Tomorrow you’ll be taken to Cleveland where the rest of this…” “Hey, fuck that!” replied Volker loudly. “You don’t have a choice, Mr. Baldwin. You have to come with us…” “I don’t have time for this shit! Why don’t you two just fuck off now and…” And, just as Volker shoved Cleffberg with a push against his chest, Cleffberg twisted Volker’s hand around. Volker pushed Cleffberg off with a trust of his legs, throwing Cleffberg against the brick wall behind him. He was about to jump on him and lay some fists into his face, but Alderman was able to slap cuffs on Volker’s right hand and over around to the left one. “As I said, you don’t have a choice.” Alderman said. “And if you just come with us and calm the fuck down, we won’t add in assaulting a police officer.” Volker growled, pulled Alderman’s hands off of the cuffs, and started walking in the direction Alderman and Cleffberg led him in. And the man with the Soundgarden shirt walked passed him, the wires over his shoulder and a grin on his face. See. I told you there was a point to all this shit.
Not an Interview with a Vampire
The scene cut backstage in a generic fashion to reveal Chris Messiah standing outside his locker-room door, with an expression of extreme displeasure on his beautiful face. There was also some chocolate on each side of his mouth, but don’t tell him that, otherwise he might become more embarrassed than he already is. It seems that the reason that Chris was standing there was because he was about to get interviewed. My reasons for thinking that are because I’m writing this segment, so I know what’s going to happen.
On a Throne
It was the same thing as always. A car pulled into the garage, beside a gigantic truck with the ACW logo painted on the side. Other cars littered the arena like bottles on an alcoholic's floor As the car's engine cut off, the fan's anticipation as to who this car might belong to grew. Slowly, the car door opened and out emerged a man who the fans had grown to hate. Ville Azure. The Bad Seed.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
He
swaggered into the
boss' office, not even
making eye contact. He
pulled up a chair, and
placed his laptop on
the adjacent table,
powering it up. Hillary
Duncan looked on. Amazed. "Where
the hell have you been
Adam, you were due in
the building over four
hours ago, and
you didn't even have
the balls to call
either, I want
answers." Kent
sniggered. "Hillary,
calm down, I'm here
now. It's all good
right?" Kent
smirked, he had this
girl in his pocket. Duncan
hesitated, another
sign of his victory. "OK,
just get to work and I
won't report this to
William." He
smiled. "No
problem, boss."
C.H.E.A.T.E.D
- That Spells Title Shot?
Bantam Diablo walked out from the curtains as Thunderstruck by AC/DC was being played over the speakers. BD walked down to the ring, he had bandages around his head. Battle wounds from last week’s attack from Alex Draper. The fans gave some mild cheers and hopped into the ring, taking a microphone out of his pocket.
Grudge
Match
A lost match... Jesse Ramey Vs. Bantam Diablo has been a match in a previous show, but was only a tester for the crowd. The ACW top dogs wanted to try a few things with the match, so they didn't show it on TV, but now it was time to see a forgotten match...or was it. The crowd in the arena watched the screen as the graphics showed both wrestlers in battle ready poses, but that was all they looked at. No music. No referee. No wrestlers. The fans had no clue. And neither did the ACW staff. WINNER : What Winner?
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
Dougal
scrambled through his
tape collection, as
Donald wiped his brow
of perspiration. "Where
the fuck is it
knobhead?!" said
the English Media
Director of ACW. Dougal
gave his partner a
cold look as he went
back to his mission;
find the fucking tape. "Where
did you have it last,
retrace your steps
mate." Dougal
had had enough. "OK,
this morning I woke up
beside your mother and
then..." THUMP~! A
jab to the arm. "I'll
keep looking
then." Tapes
and cd's flew all over
the room before he
lifted his arms, in
joy. "YAS!
Got it...oh." He
produced from a
cardboard box, two
tapes, neither of them
marked. "OK...lemme
think, I'm sure
that Adam Kent gave me
this one," he
lifted one, but the
quickly looked at the
other. "Although,
it could have been
this one." "Gimme
it!" Donald
snatched a tape off of
his counterpart, he
didn't know what was
on it, but he needed
to put something on
the screen...and that
he did.
Grudge
Match NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK "What
the fuck?" Men,
woman and children
covered their ears in
horror as random
screeching noises came
from the almighty ACW
speakers, and then it
was quickly stopped,
and a blank screen
appeared. Discusses
went on and ears were
rubbed, but not before
long, the screen took
some sort of action,
as we went to the
backstage area for a
segment... WINNER
: Don't
Ask Me...
Kiss me...
CRASH!
"It
Ain't Good
Business" - Geo
Vacton
“Geo, you’re right… Those guys are crazy, and a little bit nuts.
Truth be told, they ought to be locked up. What were they in their old place? Clowns or something like that? Whatever they were, they’re dumb. They’re not worth our time. We got bigger things to deal with… like championships, endorsements and sponsorships, baby!! So forget about them losers. Let bygones be bygones, right?” Magick Man reasoned with Geo Vacton who desperately wanted a match with either the Mammoth or Marshall. Hell, if he had it his way he’d take on them both at the same time. “Magick… None of this is about any money, any profit, any gain… Nothing. There’s no business here, there’s no politics, dude. All I want is a match… And hey, if you can’t get me it… Then, well, I guess I‘m gonna go do this without a match.” And with that Geo rushed out of the room.
Grudge
Match
Hi, hello. Welcome back. This match will be commercials-free. Or so I was told. We'll find out, eh? The crowd were quick to launch into a haze of jeering as the intensity of the house lights went down a notch, and "Bitter Sweet Symphony (James Lavelle Instr'mental Remix)" by THE VERVE began to blare over the speakers. Unlike past weeks, the jeering wasn't so generic. The hate that had been amassed for CHRIS MESSIAH was slowly reaching frightening levels. He strutted out from the back, avoiding eye-contact with the crowd for one reason or the other, and rapidly made his way down the ramp, eager to get on with the match. This would be his chance to make up for the inability to claim the Scorpion Fighting Title last week, even if he did think he'd won. Now in the middle of the ring, Chris raised his arms in the air and stuck his tongue out, not endearing himself to the crowd. Like he cared what they thought. I liked him so much better when he was in thReat; only because he had an awesome winning streak going on there, and his hair was styled better. Anyways, the music was quickly faded out, and next on the DJ's list was... ... "Lucky You" by the Deftones. The jeering still lingered in the air, as the Asylum Women's Champ brushed past the curtains aggressively and briskly made her way down the ramp. Chris Messiah ogled at Min, while the crowd began debating why Fejona hadn't been present last week. Actually, from my vantage point, they were actually debating over; why she'd bothered to show up again following her defeat to Geo Vacton two weeks ago, and how big her tits were. I must say, I enjoyed the second debate more thoroughly. Fejona -- donning a *tight* white tanktop with short sleeves, black silk pants, and sporting no footwear at all -- wasted no time in climbing into the ring. Chris Messiah smacked his lips and continued to check Fejona out, being the lecherous lecher that he was, while Min cracked her knuckles and waited for the referee to get proceedings underway. One problem. There was no referee. Nevertheless, the timekeeper rang for the bell (*DING DING DING*) and the confused pair of competitors in the ring (foursome if you count Fejona's shapely tits as seperate entities) began to circle each other. The crowd too were perplexed, as to why there was no sanctioned official in the ring, but their attention soon diverted to Chris Messiah and Fejona Min getting tangled in a grapple tie-up. Almost seconds after, Chris slithered out of there with the advantage in the form of a side headlock. Fejona swiftly fought back with several punches to Messiah's gut, before crashing a forearm into the side of Chrissy's ribs. The former thReat International Champion flinched, and momentarily found himself in a side headlock. He didn't complain, since Messiah had a good view of Fejona's tits. Not for long, as Fejona Min spun around, slapping on a waistlock. Before Chris could even retaliate with an elbow shot, the tA Women's Champ demonstrated just how much strength she could muster up, going for what appeared to be a German suplex. Mad props to Chris, though, for SOMEHOW landing on his feet. Naturally, Fejona is surprised. But as she turns around, Messiah kicks her in the ribs and floors her with a snap suplex. Chris retains his grip on Fejona's head and swings his hips, a'la Eddie Guerrero, and pulls Fejona up again. With a sneer to the crowd, Messiah lifts the Cambodian Femme Fatale up, sneaks a peek at her tits, then plants her with a classic stalling suplex. Following which, the cover is made. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. ... Yeah, the referee was still missing in action. Visibly upset, Chris Messiah peeled himself off of the Enchanting Delinquent and staggered over to the ropes, screaming at the timekeeper and the announcers. Hoping that something will happen, so that he could go on and win the match. But, all he got were shrugs in response. Chris was mad. He got even madder when he turned around and Fejona took advantage of the fact that there was no referee, punching Messiah in the groin, before she sprung up to her feet and knocked the wind out of the former thReat International Champion with a hurricaranna. It looked a wee bit sloppy, but the fans were impressed nonetheless. Week after week of shoddy WWE programming will do that to you, I guess. Um, back to the match. Fejona now had control of the contest, kicking away at Chrissy's right arm, obviously working towards a possible submission. Interesting. Chris too is a submissions expert, like Fejona. Not in the bedroom, of course, although Messiah would probably tell you that he's a sexgod. SO, Fejona pulled Chris up and struck with a swift throat thrust, before whipping him into the ropes. A spinning heel kick was on the cards, but in a show of grace, he rolled underneath her and jumped to his feet, using his momentum to take him into the ropes. Min spun around, and Messiah promptly KEEELED her with a clothesline. The hicks and shemales in the audience (thanks Atken!) continued to jeer, while Messiah looked around, still wondering about the referee. And once again, Chrissy's Attention Deficit Disorder proved to be his undoing. For when he turned around and tried to whip the recovered Fejona into the ropes, the Cambodian Femme Fatale reversed it, and heaped on the pressure with a hiptoss. Old-school, ain't it? Messiah found himself in even more trouble, with Fejona Min taking him down with an armdrag mere seconds later. Struggling to his feet, Chris found the crowd cheering, and the Enchanting Delinquent patiently waiting for him as he turned around. And what did she do? Drop-toe-hold. Which was followed up with a crossface submission a heartbeat later. The result was instant. Chris Messiah tapped, and the crowd went ballistic. However, those cheers died down when two things settled in the feeble minds of the fans. One, it was Fejona Min they were cheering for. And two, the referee was STILL missing in action. This 'injustice' forced Fejona Min to relinquish the hold and do as Chris Messiah did moments ago. Again, to no avail, as the timekeeper and the announcers simply shrugged, the match still progressing without any hint of order. The Women's Champ of theAsylum turned around, flustered, and immediately sought to take Messiah down again as the latter, having recovered, charged at her with a loud growl. Another crossface submission! Yay! Uhhh, no. Messiah countered it halfway, smashing his fist into Fejona's face, knocking her into the ropes. And being the opportunist that he was, Chris picked Fejona up as she bounced off the ropes, slamming her down to the canvas in a vicious powerslam. Floating over, an angered Messiah began to unleash with a flurry of punches. Just as a referee, FINALLY, appeared from behind the curtains and raced down the ramp. Chrissykins saw this and pulled Fejona up by the hair, catching her with several stiff hooks to the face, before whipping her across the ring, and into the turnbuckle. The impact of which saw the Enchanting Delinquent stumble out of there with her back arched, but unfortunately for Min, Chris would get another sniff of her tits. And at the same time, score with a belly-to-belly suplex. With the referee now in the ring, the first actual count could be made;
ONE.
TWO.
THR - SHOULDER UP!
Aye, Fejona Min got the shoulder up at the last possible second, and Chris Messiah pouted. The referee, already embarrased for having shown up late, shirked away from the scene as quickly as possible, realising that the volatile Chrissykins was glaring at him in a very antagonistic way. Either that, or Chris has decided that he's a homo. We'll stick with the former for now. Picking Fejona Min up, Messiah clocked her with several more strikes to the face, before whipping her into the ropes. Just as Min's spine made contact with the ropes, Chris lunged forward and attempted a dropkick. To little success, as the one they call the Callous Slayer hung on to the ropes, proving that despite being a rookie in the squared circle, she was a quick learner. With Messiah crashing down to the canvas, head and spine bearing the brunt of the missed dropkick, Fejona Min hoisted herself onto the top rope and balanced herself perfectly. Before taking flight... and oblitering Messiah with a moonsault. If she wasn't such an evil vixen, the fans would have been going 'HOLY SHIT' right about now. As it were, the Enchanting Delinquent almost hurt herself in the process, but she was still able to make the cover, as the referee counted;
ONE.
TWO.
THRE - OOOOH, SO CLOSE!
Chris Messiah had *just* managed to kick out, and a frustrated Fejona Min growled at the referee, wanting to argue her case. She decided against it, and pulled Chris up, chuckling at how dazed he was. Then, a knife-edged chop. Make that two chops. Fejona now adopted a karate stance, letting her right leg fly with several kicks to the ribs and the legs of Chrissykins. The former thReat International Champ tried desperately to block, but with minimal success. In fact, he was so bad at it that he left one very important part of his anatomy exposed. His head. SMACK A HUGE roundhouse kick knocked Chris Messiah backwards, and a trickle of blood dribbled down his chin. Fejona Min's eyes gleamed as she spun around and kneeled, before charging forward, toward her opponent, about ready to claim the victory. But, somehow, Chris Messiah hit the duck, and Fejona Min's spear attempt was in vain. Her shoulder got acquianted with the steel ring post, and the crowd actually acted as if they were concerned for the Enchanting Delinquent. Perhaps because they felt that she was just about one move away from winning. As she turned around, however, Fejona Min fell to the charm of Chris Messiah. In the form of a double underhook backbreaker, that Messiah affectionately calls 'Gravity Grave'. The cover? You bet. Messiah hooked the legs, too;
ONE.
TWO.
THREE!
The referee, regardless of his lateness, had made the count, and Chris Messiah was declared the winner. Messiah shoved the referee away, though, as he stood to his feet. Instead, he raised his own arms in the air, much to the chagrin of the crowd. The disappointment of last week's defeat was now but a distant memory. Suddenly, though, a section of the fans cheered. Rather inexplicably, especially since Chrissykins was doing some sort of celebratory jig, much like what Rene Dupree does in his matches. Only one reason for that strange phenomenon. The fans cheering, I mean. Something cool was going to happen? WINNER : Chris Messiah
Let
The Bodies Hit The
Floor
Yes, something did happen. The lights being cut was a testament to that. Want more convincing? How about... "Deep Purple" by Perfect Strangers starting up and annoying the living fuck out of everyone in attendance? None more so than Chris Messiah, of course. The lights slowly came back on and there he was. PHIL ATKEN, at the top of the ramp. With a goofy grin plastered on his face and a steel chair in his possession. Fejona Min had done the smart thing (that rhymes!) and hightailed out of the ring through the crowd, not wanting any part of what was potentially about to explode. It was no secret to everyone watching and in attendance that there was friction between Atken and Messiah. Nobody quite knew why. Nobody quite cared, all of a sudden, when four men slid into the ring and jumped Chris Messiah, who was busy taunting Atken to come on down. The fact that the video wall was broadcasting Phil's raunchy entrance video made it impossible for Chris to anticipate what was going to befall him. Then, a wise-ass in the crowd shouted; "HEY, THOSE FOUR JOKERS LOOK FAMILIAR!". Much to Phil's amusement. And as YOUR Entertainment Saviour sauntered down the ramp, waving his chair around before climbing into the ring, everybody began to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The attack that Chris Messiah was subjected to about two weeks ago? It was a case left unsolved, right? Not any longer, you Sherlock wannabes. Mike Rogers. Gayber. White Rash. The Superdooperstar. Four men who made their 'impressive debuts' on ACW programming two weeks ago. Coincidence? Maybe not. But, wait, they all wrestled Chris Messiah on their debuts. And LOST. Now, THAT is a coincidence. Plus, with Phil Atken directing traffic, Chris Messiah was finally aware of what was really going on. Before Gayber's smelly foot crashed into his jaw and almost knocked him out. The A! Champion had been the mastermind behind Messiah's backstage attack two weeks ago, and he'd gotten Jobbers Inc to do his dirty work for him. Chris wasn't sure why, and neither did the crowd, but that was immaterial now. The bell was ringing repeatedly now, serving as a plea to the back to get some assistance down to the ring. Messiah was floundering in a pool of his own blood now, but Atken was still giving out orders to Jobbers Inc. Until the lights dimmed again. ... "Make A Move" by Lostprophets. The other 'suspect' behind Messiah's beatdown two weeks ago, who was also the victim of a heinous prank last week, was now charging down the ramp. He'd seen enough, and apparently, he had a feeling that Atken and Messiah had something to do with his crucifixtion last week. Quinton May, ladies and gentlemen. Let the bodies hit the floor. Sliding into the ring, Quinton was quick to knock the snot out of White Rash with a harsh clothesline, before knocking The Superdooperstar down with another clothesline. Gayber was ordered by Atken to take care of the Canadian Gladiator, but Quincy Mama didn't break a sweat as he suplexed Gayber OUT OF THE RING. Save for a slight limp, Quinton May didn't act as if he was bashed up a week prior. A sweeping roundhouse kick to Mike Rogers also dispelled rumours that Quincy's legs were shot to hell after three weeks of opponents taking their liberties with the Rising Star's sudden weakness. Now, all the bodies had hit the floor, and only Quinton May and Phil Atken remained standing. Atken was nervous, despite the steel chair in his hand. Quinton? He was just enraged. So, the two men shrugged and ran at each other. Foolish act on May's part, Atken thought, as he raised the chair over his head. But, as he swung... all he got was air. Quinton had ducked. Phil turned around, frowning. SMACK High-leg clothesline to the face. The chair was knocked out of Phil Atken's hands, and the crowd were on their feet now. So was Quinton, if you're still keeping score of this very messy situation. The Canadian Gladiator pulled Atken up and shoved the latter's head in between his legs, hooking the arms a second later. Time for the ol' HIDEAWAY? Not if Mike Rogers had a say in it. And he did. Much to the crowd's dismay. That's right! Mike Rogers had slithered back into the squared circle and stuck his nose in where it didn't belong. Clubbing Quinton across the back of the head, Rogers now unloaded a barrage of kicks upon the Rising Star, while Phil Atken tumbled out of the ring and staggered up the ramp, having had his bit of fun for the night. Chris Messiah had been taken care of. And that was all Atken cared about. In the ring, Mike Rogers was saddened, and waddled over to the ropes, screaming for Atken to give him for instructions. A stupid move on the jobber's part, for when he turned around... SMACK Quinton clocked him with a particularly devastating chairshot. The Canadian Gladiator was now standing tall, in the ring, with the bodies of jobber Mike Rogers and Chris Messiah on either side of his trembling lifeform. His eyes were transfixed on Phil Atken, who'd turned around and smugly chortled back at May. The crowd were, while confused over the situation that unfolded, cheering wildly at Quincy's ability to even STAND. Naturally, swear-words were directed at Atken, but he soon disappeared, leaving Quinton to survey the damage he'd caused. Needless to say, the seemingly trivial relationship between Atken, Quinton, and Messiah had spiralled out of control. For no apparent reason, too. Early days yet, though. Very early days.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
Giving people into serious bother was never Hillary Duncan's favourite part to the day, but given her very high role in a very respected wrestling promotion, she had to partake in the activity more often than she could ever have wished. In-front of her sat Pat Hallon, the chief of referee's in ACW. Pat's job was to hire and fire ACW referee based on their performance, and it was also his job to make sure that referee's knew what they were doing for the evening...something which a certain referee earlier in the evening didn't seem to know. "I want to get this done very quickly Pat, because we both have work to do for the rest of the show, but I want to know why their wasn't a referee assigned for the last match? You do realise how unprofessional that makes us look..." "Yes, I do." "So then what happened?" "I didn't even know that match was going to take place." Duncan's brain sat still for what seemed to be the 20th time in the evening. "What? The match board has been up since three o'clock, how could you not know?" Duncan was a smart woman, she already knew the answer before Pat moved his lips. "Kent gave me a new sheet." She wrapped strands of hair behind her ears and held up her head with her hands, elbows on the table on front of her. "You're dismissed Pat, and I'm sorry for brining you up here." "That's no problem Miss. Duncan, I know you are having a tough night." Pat gave a gullible smile and then went off on his way, thinking about the rest of the nights business, leaving Miss. Duncan in her office thinking about the problems of her federation for the night. "Tough is an understatement."
I Am Your Callous And Biased Response, Part One
The crowd was rumbling and somewhat wrestles… Vile Azure and Lancett was up next up next. Right now though, at his this moment. Jagger and the boys had something to say, the bongos where setting it up… and the crowd was about to knock it down.
Second in Command
Smack.
Grudge
Match
Over the past week Ville Azure has been on a hunt for one man, Lancett. Ville almost killed Lancett last week, thus the ACW bookers have decided to settle this old fashion way, in the squared circle. As this was being commercialized over the local radio stations. Some where awaiting it and some where waiting for this bout to begin so they can get their son that damned Alias shirt. Be careful what you wish for. . . “Numb” by Linkin Park came to be heard around the arena. The majority (80 / 20 split) booed the living daylights out of this young man as he came from the backstage. He walked down the isle and looking around he saw a sign from a young girl: “Marry me Lancett!” He smiled and walked over to her. “You want this?” He smirked. She
touched his upper body
and rubbed down his body
and then he backed up
smiling. After this show
of public affection he
baseball slid into the
ring and sprang to his
feet. As he reached his
vertical base he slowly
spread his arms enduring
boos and few cheers he
got from these lovable
Indianapolis fans. “Lancett Sucks!” “Lancett Sucks!” “Lancett Sucks!” "Cicatriz ESP" by The Mars Volta came on as the chants kept on going. Ville came from the backstage not so calm as Lancett. He made it down to the squared circle in record time, he ran so fast. Lancett took quick exit as the theme song didn’t even get started before it was turned off and replaced by this battle’s opening bell. “Woah! Woah! Woah!” Lancett tried to do the utter most impossible thing: taming this rage. The people took their seats took watch this beating of two men in tights. Lancett climbed the stairs and the chants began once more: “Lancett Sucks!” He looked towards the loveable fans and gave them the almighty “up yours” sign, but before he knew it he was being yanked over the top rope and into the battleground. Ville smiled as he picked him up and throw him into the turnbuckle so hard that it shook the whole ring and Lancett rebounded. Ville wasn’t done though; Lancett got decked with two feet to the chest with a vicious front drop kick. The Bad Seed took advantage and quickly. He wasn’t done. Lancett got pulled up the hair and got a knee to the face. Rather yet two… rather yet three… four, five, six! The referee finally got into Ville’s face about how brutal he was and he had to tone it down or else. Ville walks back to Lancett and was greeted by two fists to the midsection. Lancett rotated on his heels and landed a quick and stiff European uppercut right on target. Another jab to the midsection brought Ville’s head into a bow letting Lancett to take advantage. Lancett latched a suplex at a blink of an eye and lifted him up. Lancett stalled promoting his strength. Lancett walked a couple steps forward, but Ville bent and countered the suplex by getting to his feet. Lancett was surprised and quickly responded with a quick front flip, hooking the arms of Ville with his leg trying a sunset flip. Ville, with his quickness of mind, rolled out of the sunset flip and connected a ‘Birth Control Method’. Lancett fell to the side biting his lower lip holding his family jewels. Ville looked up to the yelling referee with a look of disgust, but of course had that sadistic grin in that look of disgust. Ville went for the cover. One Lancett kicked out only to return to holding his crotch. Ville looked at the referee having him only respond with the rock on symbol signaling a two count. Ville hit the canvas then looked back over to Lancett. Ville stood up really fast only to return to his brutal attack with a stiff kick to the lower back sending Lancett into an arc of pain. Ville
pulled Lancett back up
and sent him running
into the ropes with an
Irish whip. BOOM!
Lancett retaliate with a
huge springboard
shinning wizard onto
Azure. “Holy Shit!” “Holy Shit!” “Holy Shit!” Lancett pulled Ville by his hair to a vertical base. One! Two! Three! He hit his trademark trio snap suplexes. Lancett sprang to his feet all fired up. Ville reached feet, but at a bad time. Lancett was on the second turnbuckle and as he turned around an inverted bulldog greeted him. Ville was getting his ass handed to him. BOOM! Once Lancett put his hands on Ville’s batter body he got a recoil attack - Lullaby! Lancett was sent to the canvas falling backwards. Instead of Ville hitting this at the jaw he landed it right on the forehead of Lancett, cutting him wide open. Both men where down. One! The referee started to count the men down. Two! Neither showed any life. Three! Still no life, but a person was coming from the backstage. Four! This person was none other than Abbey, girlfriend of Lancett. Five! Ville started to show some life. Six! Abbey reached the ring a look of concern on her face about Lancett due to him being busted wide open. Seven! Ville laid his hand on Lancett’s chest. One Yes! Ville beat him! Ville completed his hunt for Lancett and came out with the W. Abbey slid into the ring as Ville started to show life and try to reach his feet. Abbey bent over next to Lancett to check on him. Ville looked at her and smiled; he seemed to have plans to do something sick and seductive like he normally always thinks. The fans booed. Lancett’s eyes started to open and got to one knee. The blood tickled into Lancett’s eyes, he had to take his eye off Abbey for split second, and that split second: Ville pulled up Abbey and went for the Lullaby again, but Lancett, seeing this attack coming out of left field, used his last bit of energy to push her out of the way and he got into the way this one connecting right on the dot, right under the chin. Lancett went head over heels. “LANCETT!” Abbey cried. Ville took a quick exit under the ropes. As Abbey cried for help, “HELP!” The medics rushed down to the ring. They took their time making sure his neck wasn’t traumatized anymore. The Lullaby wasn’t a funny move; it was probably the most serious move in all ACW if connected. They tried to get him on a stretcher. Lancett was too stubborn to get on the stretcher, and tried to go by himself but his body didn’t have the strength to hold him up. Abbey and some people of the staff helped him getting under one arm brining to the backstage area. WINNER : Ville James Azure
The Puppet Master's Strings
Bantam Diablo walked down the poorly lit hallway and stopped at a wooden door. He raised his hand to knock on the door and was stopped. He liked it. Hillary leaned against a wall and folded her arms. She waited for Diablo to explain himself.
No Run In
Lancett pushed open a door with a kick, the blood trickled down to his chin then feel all six feet to the ground to splatter into thousands. Abbey was at his side as he had a disgruntled look on his face gesture due to his loss and to the man that they have just encountered.
The Things I Want
For the past hour or so, he had been doing everything that Kraig Carter commanded. Serving him drinks. Taking any insults that were thrown at him. He even had to mess with a television for thirty minutes straight to make it work for Mr. Carter.
Suitin'
Up & Lookin' Tough
The Mammoth was suited up. He stood in his locker room, his huge seven-foot mass casting a shadow across the entire room. Marshall couldn’t even be seen standing behind him, helping to strap on an elbow pad to protect the Mammoth’s huge elbows.
Grudge
Match
The opening notes of “A Violent Reaction” by American Head Charge seeped into the arena as the giant known as the Mammoth stepped out into the arena with his partner, Marshall, by his side. The duo was met immediately by boos from the audience. A slight “Action League!! Action League!! Action League!!” chant was attempted, but the crowd just didn’t have the fuel just yet. The Mammoth stepped over the top rope as Marshall slid under the bottom. The Mammoth cracked his knuckles and looked at the crowd. Everyone seemed to be smiling, and he was disgusted. He cracked his neck as… “Going Down in Flames” by 3 Doors Down bled into the arena and Jesse Ramey stepped out into the arena. The crowd gave him a cheer, obviously liking him much more than they liked the other two guys in the ring. He breezed down the ramp and rolled into the ring. Standing before the Mammoth he, at 5’11”, looked like a child. Ramey’s music faded away and the crowd buzzed for a moment until the referee rung the bell. Marshall hopped out of the ring, and the match began. The match started real quick with the Mammoth grabbing Ramey and kneeing him in the stomach. Ramey flopped around like, just as Marshall predicted, a rag doll. The Mammoth clobbered Ramey with heavy lefts and rights, and then he tossed him into the ropes. Upon the return, the Mammoth let out a huge big boot. Ramey fell to the mat, and then rolled out of the ring. He was realizing early on that the Mammoth lived up to his reputation of being able to dominate opponents within minutes and Ramey wasn’t about to let this happen. Ramey rolled back into the ring, this time being a tad bit more cautious. When the Mammoth went for a grapple, Ramey rolled out of site and appeared behind him. When the Mammoth turned around, he felt Jesse’s boots in his stomach. He was too big to fall down, however, and just stumbled back a few inches. Ramey gave him a few chops across his back, but the Mammoth soon blocked one of them and caught Ramey’s wrist. He held his arm up, and although Ramey tried to spin out of it, the Mammoth kicked Ramey in the armpit area and then dragged him over to the turnbuckles where he slapped his face into the post. Ramey violently shuck his head and then stumbled away in a daze. The Mammoth grabbed Ramey and brought him up into a power bomb. Ramey very quickly found a way of it, realizing that a power bomb from this guy would certainly do him in. Ramey shoved his way away and hung low across the ring. The Mammoth approached him, and Ramey took a kamikaze approach to the match by running at him and then baseball sliding on the mat to kick him in the shin. The risky move paid off and the Mammoth smashed down into the mat. Realizing this was his chance to take him out, Ramey climbed up onto the top rope and waited for the Mammoth to rise. As the Mammoth stood up, Jesse Ramey leapt off the top rope with his patented Touching the Sky (AKA, a split legged moonsault.) The Mammoth again hit the mat hard, and Ramey went for the pinnnn…. One! Two!!! Aw, no… The Mammoth easily powered out of the pin, bench pressing Ramey’s body off of him. The Mammoth was now content to absolutely annihilate Jesse Ramey. His huge tree like arms came down on Ramey in a frenzy. The assault didn’t stop for several minutes when finally the powerhouse had Ramey in the corner of the ring. There he laid into his head again, and then put Ramey up on the third rope where he made him sit. Being as big as he is, the Mammoth then gorilla pressed him up into the air and carelessly tossed him onto the mat. The Mammoth then began to try and climb up the ropes, but because he is so big he found it hard to keep his balance with the ropes falling out from under him every time he tried to climb. When he finally made it to the top, he looked like he was at least 20 feet tall. He held his arms to jump, but very soon regretted EVER climbing up those ropes. Aye, Jesse Ramey, having been in the ring for years, got back up and shuck the ropes. The Mammoth wasn’t able to keep his balance, and he came falling straight down onto the family jewels. “OOOWWWW…” Rumbled through the crowd, everyone could feel the Mammoth’s pain. Ramey, as he had from the beginning, knew that times like this were crucial if he wanted to win this match and so as the Mammoth sat on the turnbuckles in so much obvious pain, Ramey ran up the turnbuckles, grabbed the monsters huge head, and sent them both flying out of the ring and onto the mat with his well-known move, Hangtime!!! The cheered at the perfectly and beautifully executed move. Ramey could feel the crowd behind him, and so he lifted the huge guy up and rolled him on into the ring. Ramey again went for the pin. One!! Two!! “Heey!!! Heey!!!” The referee turned around to find Marshall standing on the apron. Marshall raised his fist, and with knuckles fashioned in brass, he knocked the referee out. Jesse Ramey slapped the mat several more times, trying desperately to get the referee’s attention back. When he turned around, however, he saw that Marshall was now in the ring with a chair. “What the fu…” Marshall cracked it over Ramey’s head. Ramey fell into the mat, and the Mammoth slowly came to his feet even though he was still suffering from falling on his nuts. The Mammoth laughed at the sight of Ramey on the mat, and smiled at Marshall for his job well done. The Mammoth hooked Ramey’s leg, and Marshall grabbed the referee. “C’mon, make the count. Wake up, jackass. C’mon!!” The referee slowly came to, and being unable to remember the blatant interference, began making the count. One!!! Two!!!! THRE-- No waaaaay. Ramey kicked out. A chair shot wasn’t gonna be enough to put him down, no sir. The Mammoth’s fists pounded the mat, and the mat soon became Ramey’s skull. The referee came to his feet, and kicked Marshall out of the ring. Marshall grabbed the chair before the referee started making any assumptions. The Mammoth lifted Ramey up into the air and brought him crashing down with a full body slam. He again went for the pin… One!! Two!! Naw, although Ramey looked lifeless at the moment he still had A LOT of fight left in him. The Mammoth brought him back to his feet and shoved him into the ropes. He went for a clothesline, but Ramey ducked it. He went into the ropes, and the leapt up into the air with a bulldog. The Mammoth slammed down onto the mat. Ramey jumped up onto his feet and strutted around, showing his resilience. The Mammoth came back to his feet. Ramey squatted down on the mat and charged at the Mammoth. The Mammoth wasn’t phased by this move, and in fact he held on to Ramey. He brought him up into the air with a power-bomb, and it quickly became known as the Flushaway. The Mammoth hit his running spinning power bomb, and went for the pin. This had to be it. One…! Two…!! Three…!! No!!! The Mammoth was so close, but Ramey kicked out just in the nick of time!! The Mammoth argued it over with the referee, but then finally went on with the match. He picked up Ramey and brought him into the air for a hanging vertical suplex. He held him there for a while, and when they came down it was hard to see what was happening but it appeared as though Ramey was able to flip out of the suplex and bring The Mammoth into a small package!!! The referee shot down to make the pin. One!! Two!! Three!!! How the hell?!!!! Ramey caught the Mammoth off guard and managed to steal a pin fall! Ramey jumped to his feet and held his arms up as his music began to play again. The Mammoth quickly got to his feet, and he seemed madder than usual. He lunged at Ramey, and Ramey quickly tried to make his way out of the ring but… THUD!!!! Marshall cracked the chair across Ramey’s head for the second time tonight as he spun around to exit the ring. As he fell backwards he fell right into the Mammoth’s huge hands. The Mammoth hoisted Ramey up in a choke slam and then turned it into the Last Laugh by making it into a spine bomb slam. When the Mammoth got back up, he grabbed the chair from Marshall and started jabbing it into the neck of Ramey. Ramey kicked and screamed, trying to get out of it, but the Mammoth showed no remorse. When he was done, he picked the chair up again and slapped it across Ramey’s chest. Ramey didn’t deserve this; he just won the match fair and square… But the Mammoth didn’t care. (Hey, that rhymed…) He had this match tonight for one soul purpose… To show the world what he was made of. To dominate the match and DESTROY somebody… Anybody. And since he was unable to do it in the match, he did it after it. The assault continued, with the two of them stomping away at him. The crowd was booing hysterically. Ramey tried to crawl away a few times, but he was starting to give up. Marshall and the Mammoth had a message to deliver, and no body cos stop them… Except perhaps one person… Know why?? “’COS I’M T-N-T!!!! I’M DY-NO-MITE!!!!” The crowd erupted as Geo Vacton ran out to the ring. He slid in and Marshall tried to move in on him, but Vacton quickly took him out with a super kick. Marshall fell down, and Geo took after the Mammoth. He tried to hit Geo with the chair, but Geo dropkicked it sending it right back at him. As the Mammoth stumbled backwards, Geo grabbed the chair and used what was left of it on the Mammoth. He kicked him in the stomach several times and then tossed him out of the ring. The Marshall was back on his feet, and Geo kicked him into the stomach. Having him bent over forwards, Geo flipped him around and it looked like he might be going for a reverse DDT… But everyone knows that’s not what it really was… DYNAMITE DROP BABY!!! Marshall’s neck nearly broke as Geo snapped him down to the mat with the other half of the move, a cross cutter. Geo grabbed Marshall and tossed him out of the ring onto the Mammoth. When the two came to, they decided to retreat. The threat of Geo in the ring and the constant “T-N-T!! T-N-T!!” detoured them from trying any harder, so they stormed off… Thoroughly embarrassed and extremely pissed off. Geo checked on Ramey to make sure he was ok, and after Ramey came to and Geo brought him to his feet, Geo held his arm up to show the crowd that he was the winner of the match that they may have forgotten about… Geo’s music kicked off, and “Going Down In Flames” shot back through the arena. Geo slid out of the ring, and let Ramey have his moment. Geo looked back up the ramp, no sign of Marshall and the Mammoth… They might’ve been out of sight, but they certainly weren’t out of mind. This wouldn’t be the last time they’d deal with Geo. WINNER : Jesse Ramey
I've Got
Proof
Phil Atken, ladies and gentlemen! Ain't he a sexy beast? ... Errrm, okay. So, Atken was grumbling to himself as he walked down the hallways of the arena, ready to return to the hotel room for another night of sex with the local whores. He'd been a busy boy on the night, and this despite the fact that he didn't even have a match pencilled in. Now more than ever, though, the masses loathed the A! Champion. It had been revealed that Phil Atken was the man that was behind the dastardly backstage beatdown of Chris Messiah two weeks ago. Alright, sure. Not many people like Messiah, unless you're Irish. Or Scottish. One of those. The fact was, people hated Phil Atken more, and with the truth now out in the open, everybody had more of a reason to spite Phil. Not that the Smartest Man In Wrestling Today cared, as he turned a corner and began to whistle softly to himself. "PHIL! PHIL! CAN I GET A WURD WITH YOUZ?!" the shrill voice of Vespar MacPeterson rang out. Atken cringed, and the Sexbomb of the New Millenium sighed as he slowly turned around, resigned to the fact that being sexy meant everybody wanted an interview with him. "That's Mr Atken to you, Vespar! Wait, isn't your real name Chrissykins?" Atken retorted. Confused, Vespar MacPeterson screeched to a halt in front of the Entertainment Saviour and scratched his head. "Wherever did you hear that from? My real name is Vespar, and I was born in St Petersburg. Anyways, I just wanted to get your input on what happened out in the ring a short while ago, Mr Atken!" Phil scoffed. "What about it?" "Well, it's now all but certain to us all that YOU were the one who staged that attack on Chris Messiah two weeks ago, using the talent that he defeated on the same night to do your bidding. Can you give us confirmation, and your reasoning? Also, does this mean that you were the one who attacked Quinton May as well last Thursday?" YOUR Entertainment Saviour stroked his non-existant goatee and flicked strands of his blonde locks out of his face, looking up at the flourescent lights on the ceiling. He was almost enchanted by them, for whatever reason. This started to creep Vespar out. Immensely. "Yes." Phil spoke after an awkward silence. "Yes, I admit it. The great Phil Atken was bored two weeks ago, and as a preparation for my Ladder Match, I needed a sacrifice! I've grown tired of using goats, so I talked to those jobbers and gave them each TWO CANADIAN DOLLARS to beat up Messiah. It was funny, HAHA!" MacPeterson didn't quite get the Atken brand of humour, so he remained silent. "Anyhoo, you stink. Why do you assume *I* was the one who beat up and crucified Cunt Face last Thursday? Just because Quinton came out earlier and tried to manhandle me? Just a reminder -- I don't do anal, mind you! I'm the A! Champion, I have autographs to sign and press conferences to attend. Long story short, I have PROOF that CHRIS MESSIAH was the one who perpetrated that crucifixtion on Quinton May! YES, I DO! VIDEO FOOTAGE!" Phil Atken squealed, almost succumbing to a Flair-esque stroke right then and there. Actually, that would be funny, since Atken does resemble Flair in some ways. MacPeterson wiped the sweat out of his face and tried to look shocked. "OH MY GOD, you don't do anal? I mean, you actually have video footage of this crucifixtion nonsense?" "I do!" Phil cried out, before noticing that someone was stomping down the hallway, approaching him. It was none other than... ... Quinton 'the Crucified' May. "Errrrrm, I think I have to go now, there's a madman that seems to be stalking me. Stay tuned for ATKEN TEE-VEE next week, when I show the world and this crazed lunatic that Chris Messiah is a dangerous man who deserves to be fired from ACW, and from Burger King for that matter! CHEEERIO!" Phil babbled nonsencially, before dashing off. Vespar turned to semi-growl at Quinton May for ruining the 'interview', but May was having none of it. He shoved Vespar aside and gave chase, still limping ever so slightly. As he reached the end of the hallway and pushed open the door, though, Quinton clenched his fists and bit down on his lower lip. Phil Atken had made his getaway. In QUINTON'S car. Oh yes, this was getting more and more interesting with each passing week.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
A shadowy, impassive forest watched on as a black and white police cruiser calmly prowled along the dark and lonely road.
Fuck
Yout
Ville made his way across the parking garage, toward his car. He could hear horns going off outside as the vibrant city lights and the like called out to him through the opening in the garage. He was being pursued right then by a rather annoyed Kraig Carter... but, once again, to Ville? Kraig wasn't even there.
I Am Your Callous And Biased Response, Part
Two
The crowd was once again restless until the lights dimmed down, quieting the masses. The crowd was still a little raucous from the aftermath of the Jesse Ramey and The Mammoth match.
Consider Yourself Engaged
What would it be like, he thought.
Grudge
Match
Thump. WINNER : Simian Kade
Belated
Birthday
To say that Quinton May was a happy man would be the biggest fib ever.
“An
Addition to The
Mission” - Marshall
& the Mammoth
The sound of things being thrown around and loud breathing could be heard… This could only mean one thing… No, Fejona Min isn’t finally giving it up to someone cheap… The Mammoth was on another rampage. He finally ended his assault on inanimate objects and stopped in front of the camera to appear on the bigSCREEN. He cracked his neck.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
Abbey wiped the blood off his face with the wet towel and used her free hand to push the hair from his forehead as she wiped his forehead clean. Lancett’s dark brown orbs looked into the hazel of hers.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
Let this end. Now. That was what Hillary Duncan was thinking, and she was very close to her wish. However, as the night slowly became what can only be described as a shambles, she watched as the main man responsible for the current show walked through her door. Adam Kent. "I need to ask you a favour." You would have forgiven her if she laughed in his face and knee'd him in the balls, but she had class. "What do you need." "Cancel the main event." "Come again?" "I've no found anyone to take the match..." She needed a seat, and she needed one quick. She took her time, she didn't want to mince her words. "You fucking idiot." And she didn't. She got back to her feet like a bullet, and quickly got into his face. "I know what this is all about, you probably didn't even look for an opponent for HAWK, because all you have wanted to do this whole show was make sure that I've failed, and well, you have succeeded, big time. You can't take it that Laguna put me in charge Adam, you can't take the fact that he has more trust in my left finger than he does in your whole body!" "Bitch." SLAP But then... THUD She fell to the ground, her head banging off her desk, after a right hand from Kent. Silence One in shock, and the other not quiet knowing what he had just done. And then came the final kick in the stomach. "Cancel the fucking match, or else." And then he walked away... She bled from her lip, and her head throbbed and it was now a true test of character.
Grudge
Match
Sorry, but not tonight son.
I Am Your Callous And Biased Response, Part
Three
The
future of things to
come… ooor atleast
the conversation about
it.
The
lights where once
again on Alias and
Thomas Kilpatrick and
the Indianapolis crowd
was excited to see
what would happen to
finish things off.
Kilpatrick looked down
at his notebook and
you just knew that he
was looking to do a
little point-counter
point discussion with
Alias.
“Now
Alias,” Kilpatrick
started “Everyone is
aware that so far,
this upcoming PPV is
the only ACW show
you’ll be getting
paid for. So if
SilverHAWK retains
at ACW Revival, can we
expect the PPV to be
your last show with
the fed?”
Surprisingly
or unsurprisingly, it
didn’t take long for
Alias to answer.
“Simply,
no.” The fans
cheered and Alias
continued. “Don’t
expect a loss to Hawk
to be swan song in
this federation. I
won’t stop until I
gain retribution
against Aaron… and
after that… I’ll
do whatever I can to
make this place, what
it has the potential
to be. No we don’t
need to keep away from
the competition and we
don’t need to attack
them head on either.
We’ll
improve… and
innovate, like we
always have.
Simple.”
Kilpatrick
nodded politely, as
the crowd cheered. He
straighted out his
noted on the
ready-made table, then
looked over at Alias.
“Thanks
for coming out
tonight, Alias. Any
final words?”
Alias
nodded back to
Kilpatrick, happy with
what had transpired
tonight so far.
“I
wouldn’t miss out on
it, Thomas. Yeah
actually, I do have a
little something more
to say…” Remember
how Alias had thought
carefully about his
choice of words at the
very start of the
interview. Well these
where the words that
he had to be careful
about not saying.
“Aaron…
Hawk, whatever the
fuck you want to be
called… what do you
honestly think makes
you above anyone else.
Above these fans? Is
it because they treat
you like shit? Well
you turned your
fucking back on them
and this company…
and hey, sorry but
nows a little too late
to realize that
hindsight is 20/20.
What
the hell gives you the
right to be walking
around with such a
damned godhead
complex? I wouldn’t
be surprised if
someone from this new
class of talent takes
that title from around
your waste… you’ve
kept momentum soley
with your name for the
last year, save for 3
fights against the
same opponent… more
or less.
I
just want my shot at
you Aaron… and since
last week, I know
I’ve got it.
Revival. We’ll meet
again old friend…
and I can’t wait.”
The
camera zoomed out from
Alias’s face, where
it had centered itself
as Alias concluded his
final words. The fans
cheered once again…
but those cheers where
quickly silenced, with
a response from
backstage… followed
by…
“Then
why the hell should
we wait, Chris?”
SilverHAWK
Boo.
The
two ACW legends where
immediately in each
others faces,
nose-to-nose, fists
clenched… each man
waiting for the other
to make the first
move. The crowd was
rumbling… ready to
explode… waiting for
this confrontation to
explode, itself.
Alias’s
arm swung over towards
Hawk.
Hawk’s
arm swung up towards
Alias.
Security
made it’s arrival,
separating both men as
both there fists
connected… with air.
The
crowd booed at the
turn of events.
Still,
the fire burned within
the eyes of Alias and
SilverHAWK as groups
of men held them
separate from each
other. Thomas
Kilpatrick lingering
at a same distance, to
the right.
This
war was about to
explode once again
between these two…
for the first time.
|
